Dreams
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Dreams

Let’s talk about dreams.

When I was 11 years old, I would daydream about meeting, falling in love with, and marrying Rick Springfield. It all made perfect sense to me. We were going to meet at Sam Goody’s, the local record store, strike up a conversation about his intensely attractive Australian accent, and he would look at my big blue eyes and my big Jewish nose and fall head over heels in love with me. An 11 year old. From Fair Lawn.

At the time, I thought Springfield sounded like a Jewish name, so that was my thinking on that topic, just in case you were wondering. I can’t say that all the time I spent watching him on General Hospital, and on the weekends, on Solid Gold, affected my grades, because, well, as my mom would say, “she wasn’t really a student.”

My dad knew about my plans to marry Rick. That is probably why he agreed to take my sister and me to my very first concert at Brendan Byrne Arena. For those of you born and raised in Jersey, you know who Brendan Byrne was, and how that arena has been called many things. But for the purposes of this column, we will stick to the name I remember from 1981. And if you haven’t yet figured out which concert my dad was taking me to, it was to my almost-fiancé Rick Springfield’s. Or as my boys would call him now, Rav Shpringvelt.

It was probably the most exciting night of my still very young life.

Our seats were high. Picture that. And then picture them a little bit higher than that. And then picture a tall, portly man in his 40s, accompanying his two daughters, one 11 years old and the other 17, wearing a Walkman. My dad believed that if he listened to his Walkman, he would not be able to hear the melodic sounds of Rav Shpringvelt. It was such an amazing concert — of course I had nothing to compare it to. And my dad was mildly disappointed that he could hear the “racket” going on at the concert.

I am safely assuming that we had some ice cream when the concert was over, and that made everything even better. But back to dreams.

I never remember having an actual dream about Rick. Studies have shown that you sometimes dream about things that you think about during the day, but it never happened with Rick. And every time I have a dream about having to take a final and I can’t get into my locker I am always puzzled by it, because school and homework and finals are probably the last thing I would ever voluntarily think about. And yet those dreams still happen a few times a year.

A few months ago, I had a dream that my dad woke up in perfect health. The dream was so incredibly vivid. We spent the whole day talking about everything that had been going on with him, and then as the day went on, he started to regress back to how he was before. In the dream, I remember pleading with him not to go back to how he was, and he kept telling me that there was nothing I could do about it. Needless to say, when I woke up, I was mentally frazzled (more so than usual).

And then last week, I had my first dream about my dad since May 24, 2022. In the dream, I knew that he was gone. Suddenly, he showed up in my parents’ TV room — aka the room where we watched TV. He just appeared and walked across to my mother and gave her a hug and a kiss. I kept saying to my mom, “Look, daddy’s here. He is hugging and kissing you!” And my mom just kept saying,  “I can’t feel him.” I woke up crying.

Any psychologist or person with half a brain probably could come up with many explanations of that dream. Myself included. I had shared my dream with some of my friends who also have lost parents. Some still hadn’t had dreams about their parent who was no longer with them, and they were sad about that.

But if it makes them and whoever is reading this feel any better, the first half of my dream was that my brother and I were walking to Baltimore and he was carrying a fully cooked roast in his suit pocket and he was getting all dirty so he gave it to me to put in a bag. Huh?? Anyone got anything for that part of the dream?

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is having some serious bonding with her Strudel and might not return her to her parents.

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